


A Delivery (an MCU interlude)

by screamingarrows



Series: the MCU (a rewrite). [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, very brief mention of a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingarrows/pseuds/screamingarrows
Summary: Tony goes looking for the suit he'd left behind after the battle.





	A Delivery (an MCU interlude)

**Author's Note:**

> Tony has a very brief panic attack in the beginning portion of the fic, just so yall are aware!

Tony really doesn’t have the energy to move. His entire body aches and the pain in his chest is enough to make him wish he could just slip into unconsciousness. There’s little he wants more than to just settle into his couch and fall asleep, but his mind just keeps making ever-growing lists of things he needs to do; at the top is collect the suit he’d left on the ground amongst the rubble of Manhattan.

He wishes Rhodey or Happy were here more than ever in this moment, knowing they'd gladly retrieve the suit, no questions asked. Instead Rhodey's off somewhere getting shot at and Happy is keeping Pepper sane as they try to make their way back to him. He leans against the wall to give himself some support, before taking a deep breath and pushing off, making sure the aches aren’t showing themselves in his movement.

He only has to make it to his lab, he tells himself. Once he gets to a suit, JARVIS will be able to pilot him.

By the time he makes it to his lab, he’s short of breath and sweat is beading along his hairline. He doesn’t bother moving as the suit wraps around him and his legs give as much as they can, letting the suit bear the full weight of him.

“Relax, sir. I’ll take it from here,” JARVIS says and the suit gently rises up and takes off away from the tower at a gentle pace. Tony obeys and relaxes into the suit, thankful he doesn’t have to think much as JARVIS guides him to the last known location of the suit.

He lands and it takes him a moment to realize the suit is nowhere to be found. His heart is racing and his eyes dart up to the sky, darkening due to the lowering sun and his breaths come out in short gasps.

“Where is it, J? J? Where’s the suit?”

“Sir, please, take a deep breath—” JARVIS says but Tony can’t hear him over the roaring in his ears.

It seems so insignificant, to be panicking over missing scrap metal, but Tony can’t stop thinking of all the damage that was done with the last suit he abandoned; he can’t stop thinking about all the damage SHIELD is going to do with the alien scrap metal left lying around. He’s spiraling and JARVIS blacks out the HUD, showing nothing but diagnostics on the screen.

“Sir. Please. You are safe. It has been a mere six hours since battle. The only ones with the resource to take the suit in that time would be SHIELD. Surely you can get your suit back from them.”

As he talks, Tony's racing heart calms and though he’s breathing loudly, he’s breathing _deeply_.  

“You’re right,” he says softly, blinking the moisture out of his eyes. “You’re right, but don’t call me Shirley.”

Slowly, the world outside the suit begins to filter in as JARVIS lifts the blinds and he sounds amused when he says, “Very well, sir.”

“Alright,” Tony says after he looks around, much more calmly. “Take me home.”

JARVIS doesn’t speak but the suit gently rises in the air before beginning a smooth ride back to the tower.

\-----

“Sir?” JARVIS says, not three days later. His voice breaks through the music pounding in the lap and Tony clicks off the welder in his hands, flicking the googles up on top of his head. He leans back in his chair and absently wipes the sweat away from his eyes.

“What’s up, J?”

“We have something suspicious occurring in the lobby.”

Tony frowns and spins, raising his hands to bring up the security feeds. “Suspicious?”

JARVIS doesn’t answer, but the video splayed in front of Tony is obvious enough. On screen, there’s a man dressed in a delivery uniform. He's got a large crate on a dolly resting by his side. It wouldn't be unusual, but there’s a silent altercation going on between the him and the receptionist at the front desk.

A hat sits low on the face of the unknown man and Tony can see the way he instinctively keeps himself out of view of the cameras. Tony frowns and reaches for his cellphone without taking his eyes off the hologram before him.

“Ring me the front desk,” Tony says and holds the phone up to his ear. He can hear the phone ringing and he sees the receptionist cast a look at it, but she’s still dealing with the delivery man. Tony bounces his leg as unease fills him. He squints his eyes as the phone rings in his hand and finally the receptionist holds up a finger to the man and picks up the phone.

“Thank you for calling Stark Industries, may I put you on a quick hold?”

“Nope, this is Tony.”

“Mr. Stark!” He watches her sit up in surprise and he can see her look up at the delivery man.

“I was notified there was an issue. What’s going on?”

“There is a delivery here, but the man says he needs _your_ signature.”

“Why?”

“He says it’s too valuable to risk not getting to you, but I _assured_ him you would receive it.” Her tone gets sharp and Tony is certain that was for the delivery man’s benefit rather than his.

“Tell him to take his hat off.”

She relays the message to him and Tony watches as the man casually reaches up and removes the cap hiding his face. He looks into the camera and Tony recognizes him before JARVIS can identify him.

“Sir, that is Agent Barton,” JARVIS says and Tony's already nodding, mind spinning in curiosity.

“You can let him up,” Tony says into the phone. “It’s okay; I know him.”

She relays the message and gestures to the elevators sitting behind her. Those elevators lead to his direct lab and Tony watches as he wheels a crate into elevator doors which are smoothly opening at his presence.

“Can I do anything else for you, Mr. Stark?”

“No, thank you. I appreciate how well you handled the situation.”

Tony can see the faint smile on her face before he waves away the screen.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony waits for the elevators to ding open and wipes away the sweat and grease from his face and hands. He walks to the side of his lab, making sure everything of importance was minimized or covered, and picks up a screwdriver absentmindedly to fiddle with in his hands.

“Agent Crossbow! Long time no see,” Tony says as the elevator doors open and Clint smoothly wheels out the crate. Tony moves across his lab slowly and watches as Clint carefully lowers the base to the ground and adjusts the hat on his head, sliding it back so he can smile at Tony.

“Bring me a present?” Tony asks, using the screwdriver to point at the box.

“Something like that,” Clint replies and shifts on his feet. The crate is plain, unmarked and unidentifiable; Tony's first thought is it’s something alien, something covert, and his hands shake at the thought, but he’s calmed with the knowledge that SHIELD wouldn’t let something alien leave their own labs.

“Well, what’ve we got?”

“I just figured it should go back to you. I didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on it.”

Tony kneels without a word and uses the screwdriver to pry the lid open. He looks inside and glances up at Clint, leaning back on his feet.

“Felt important to get back to you.”

Tony looks back down; inside the crate is his missing suit, all frayed wires and twisted metal. Tony reaches in and grabs the faceplate. It’s obvious Thor ripped it off him. There is subtle bending on the edges, four on one side, one on the other, finger shaped. He’d been avoiding trying to think about what happened that day, but with the archer in front of him and the evidence of Thor’s desperation to get him free, it’s hard to ignore. Something like fondness—like thankfulness—grows in his chest and he wishes he had some sunglasses or something to hide behind. The thought that he took the time to delivery this to Tony personally, to ensure he received it, makes a rock grow in Tony's throat.

To give himself some time, he makes an exaggerated motion of rubbing at the scuffs on the golden faceplate.

“SHIELD couldn’t afford to put some packing peanuts in here or something? Extra newspaper? Couldn’t clean ‘im up when they were through?” Tony's voice is gruff and he rubs the spots of grease off onto his pants.

“SHIELD didn’t have it, Mr. Stark,” Clint says, hoping his face isn’t red and that it’s in a smooth mask. “I thought it was a little beyond repair; didn’t think to add in the peanuts.”

Tony's head jerks up and he picks apart the minute changes on Clint’s face. “He is,” he says slowly, dropping the mask back into the box with a flick of his wrist. His mind whirls at the new knowledge that this SHIELD agent is content with keeping intelligence from his agency. “Call me Tony. I appreciate you bringing this by, Agent Barton.” His voice ends up too soft and he clears his throat, looking away as he rises to his feet. He offers his hand to Clint and Clint reaches for it.

“Clint,” he says, “You can call me Clint.” He’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners and Tony finds himself returning it.  

**Author's Note:**

> i've always been a sucker for clint/tony friendship and i hope ive made them sort of in character. ill be doing a few of these interlude fics before i go into my im3 rewrite so if there is anything you guys want to see vis a vis the avengers coming together as a team, let me know and ill see what i can do!!!! 
> 
> as always please let me know what you think :) 
> 
> you can find me at screamingarrows.tumblr.com


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